


The Devil Within

by CatNip_618



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fred Weasley Lives, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Horcruxes, Multi, Multiple Personalities, Nymphadora Tonks Lives, Remus Lupin Lives, Severus Snape Lives, Souls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatNip_618/pseuds/CatNip_618
Summary: Harry takes a Soul-Awakening Potion during Professor Snape's class and awakens the Horcrux inside him.The only thing wrong was that the Horcrux was supposed to have been destroyed.--Post-War AU.[ABANDONED]
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Diagon Alley

**Chapter One**

In August, Headmistress McGonagall had sent letters to all remaining seventh years who had missed a proper education at Hogwarts and invited them to complete an extra year. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger happily agreed to attend and soon were buying above-grade level textbooks and new robes for themselves at Diagon Alley. Ron was complaining about having to take classes with Snape, and Harry was ready to retort by saying something along the lines of their Professor not surviving Nagini’s bite. 

Hermione eventually stopped Ron by saying that Snape was a hero for protecting and helping Harry last year. Ron didn’t agree, but stopped complaining. Since Harry didn’t live with the Dursleys anymore, and the blood wards had long ago fallen, he resided in the Weasley’s Burrow for the summers until he found somewhere else to live (which was exceedingly difficult). Hermione had tracked down her parents and restored their memories but visited often. Sometimes they had nightmares, and Harry’s were often worse than his friends’, but his scar never hurt again. He was relieved. 

He and Ginny were still walking on eggshells ever since they seperated, but their love still burned. It was scarce when they managed a kiss because Ron was still overprotective of his little sister and didn’t want to make things awkward. 

Even with all that, Harry was glad he had the friends he knew. They calm him when his nightmares force him to scream awake; Fred and George still cracked jokes and made new inventions for their joke shop; Molly was the best guardian of a mother he could ask for, and so was Mr Weasley. 

“Harry, you alright?” Ron asked, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face. 

Harry blinked. “Oh, yeah. I’m good. Just thinking.” 

Ron made a noise and turned to his girlfriend, Hermione, and asked what else was on the list McGonagall had provided them with. As they talked, Harry let his eyes wander and saw Draco Malfoy walking into Madam Malkin’s shop. They made eye contact and Malfoy gave a respectful nod and disappeared. They had both accepted that they weren’t going to be best friends, but still held a tolerable attitude towards each other. Harry had stood up for him in the Ministry trials of the remaining Death Eaters, resulting in the lesser sentence of no magic for the year instead of a few months in Azkaban. 

Ever since Voldemort’s death, Harry’s scar hadn’t hurt at all since. Sometimes his nightmares would make him relive visions of his connection between him and the Dark Lord, and several times he had to convince himself that Voldemort was dead and Harry had his own soul. Nothing else. 

“Well,” Hermione quipped, bringing Harry out of his thoughts, “it looks like we’ve gotten everything we need, except replacement wands (which we don’t need), so now we can do some free time.” 

“How about we visit my brothers’ joke shop?” Ron asked. 

Harry smiled at that. “Sure! I’d like to see more inventions of theirs.” 

They left from where they had stood in the middle of the street and headed down an juncture, coming upon the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes joke shop. They entered under the hat-welding Weasley with the rabbit upon his head, and was greeted by a crowd of witches and wizards with George up on a balcony and Fred coaxing a kid to take one of the puke-inducing sweets from a great bucket. 

George waved a hand from above. “Ronikins! How is our sweet little boy doing?” Fred took notice and laughed along with his twin. 

Ron’s ears turned red and his expression sour. “I’m doing fine, you dimwits.” Fred approached from the kid who’d snuck away and George raced down the stairs to greet the trio. 

“Aw,” George cooed, “that’s not nice!” 

Ron’s face turned red. “Will you stop?” 

Fred went up to Harry and Hermione and smiled. “How are you doing, you two? You get McGonagall’s letter?” 

Harry smiled and so did Hermione. “Yes,” he said, “we’ve actually just finished shopping now. Have you guys done anything?” 

George turned from tormenting Ron and joined his twin. “Do we have to keep telling you? We’re done with our education, Harrykins.” At that, he batted his eyelashes and gave an innocent smile. Harry looked away, blushing as Fred’s eyes widened and he gasped dramatically. 

“What? What is it?” Harry asked suddenly, bewildered. 

“You like blokes?” Fred stage-whispered. Harry looked scandalized. 

“No!” He protested as Hermione laughed and Ron gagged. “Ginny and I are still a thing!” Fred chuckled at that and said, “If you’re sure…” Harry didn’t have a retort for that one and only looked away, gritting his teeth. 

The trio proceeded to purchase fake wands and fake make-a-broomstick kits for future pranking on others. They weren’t very keen on it, but every once and a while it was nice to do something fun. Besides, if one of them forgot their purchases, another could abuse that and prank them. 

They left the Weasley’s joke shop, left Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron and Apparated to the Burrow. With hands heavy of shopping parcels, the trio made their way and greeted the rest of Weasleys as they did everyday. 


	2. Eighth Years, Prefects, and Dreams

**Chapter Two**

The trio sat in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, having changed already into their school robes, simply sitting and not saying anything. Ron and Hermione sat on the left across from Harry, holding hands and enjoying the quiet. Harry had his elbow propped on the windowsill and hand propped on his chin. He was thinking about a lot of things. 

The night before, Harry thought his scar had hurt, and he remembered the ice cold terror he’d felt. But he’d brushed it off, since he had a headache along with the pain and told himself it was just his imagination. He didn’t dare tell his friends but the doubt had still crept in. 

Suddenly, the conductor’s voice boomed all around: “We will be arriving at Hogsmeade in fifteen minutes. Please leave your luggage here; it will be brought in for you.” The trio remained seated as the Express began to slow down and as the classmates’ chatter quieted to a stop. After the fifteen minutes went by, the trio stood and departed the train and headed towards the carriages at the end of the station of Hogsmeade. 

Harry noticed that Ron’s eyes were wide. 

“You alright, mate?” Harry asked, worried.

Ron blinked and then guestered to the horse-like creatures tied to the carriages. “Are those Thestrals?” He asked weakly. 

“Yes. You can see them if you’ve seen death.” Hermione answered. And then added quietly, “I can see them.” 

Harry turned to his friends. “I think we all can.” There was a quiet moment of silence as they trudged to the carriages and got in. They watched other people’s reaction to seeing the Thestrals and most of them looking surprised or very grave. Harry thought he heard someone weeping softly. 

The carriage gave a sharp jolt and began to move forward as they left the station and headed towards Hogwarts. Harry wasn’t sure what they did with the destruction from the war, but if they were attending a final year, then Harry could only guess that the staff had reconstructed the castle. 

They arrived and departed the carriages, Harry gently petting one of the creatures on the snout as he left. He, Hermione, and Ron entered the castle, along with the remaining eighth years and not-so-subtly looked for any signs of damages. There were still scorch marks on some of the walls from the many curses thrown and missed during last year. The Great Hall still looked the same, but there was a plaque up on the left side of the wall near the Slytherin table memorializing the fallen. Vincent Crabbe and Lavender Brown were one of the few of them. 

The trio realized that they didn’t have room to sit at the Gryffindor table, but did notice that there was a same-sized extra table next to the Ravenclaw table. Just then, Headmistress McGonagall stood upon her podium and clicked her spoon against her glass to get everyone’s attention. 

“Good evening, students. As you may have noticed, there is an extra table in the Hall. That table is specified for the remaining eighth years. We also have an extra dorm for them and they will reside there for the final year. Eighth years, please take your seats.” 

Harry and the remaining eighth years (Neville, Pansy, Draco, Dean and Seamus, and Ginny Weasley and a few more unrecognizable faces) took their seats at the table and patiently waited for the Sorting to begin. The stool was conjured and it was Snape who carried the Hat to it. Harry noticed that he sneered under the whispers and seemed to be trying to ignore them. Harry wasn’t sure. But he and Snape had established a tolerable acquaintanceship like the one between him and Malfoy, but a tad bit more strained. Harry had been the one to give him the antidote for the snake venom after getting bit by Nagini and he’d been sent to the Great Hall with the rest of the injured and fallen while Harry had looked through the Pensieve and found out about his extra soul. 

Snape unrolled a long piece of parchment as the small first years shuffled nervously into the Great Hall. Harry heard Ron called them “midgets” and not-really listened to Hermione scolding him. They were still Prefects after all. The professor called the first child’s name (Tomas Jades) and he was Sorted into Slytherin. Harry watched with mild interest as the students were Sorted into their Houses and some who were Sorted into the House of Snakes burst into tears. He really didn’t like that. 

After the Sorting and the Feast (McGonagall saying in her speech, “Hogsmeade visits are from when classes begin to curfew, and career options are still open and the Forbidden Forest is restricted.”), Hermione and Ron had to go and attend to their Prefect duties as he stayed and made sure he wasn’t mingling with the first years yet. It was often that older years didn’t follow the first years and stayed behind so they could get to the Common Rooms on their own times. 

Neville, Seamus, and Dean greeted Harry as they made their way to the Gryffindor Tower and told them of their summers of rejoicing and reconstructing their family affairs and simply adjusting to the post-war world quietly. They had spent a lot of time together, resulting in a potential relationship between Seamus and Dean, and Harry was happy for them. He even made a few suggestive jokes that made them both blush deeply. 

Once in the Common Room, Ron and Harry and Dean and Seamus both played Exploding Snap and Gobstones until it was curfew. Then they proceeded to head to their respective dorms, the eighth years heading to the extra wing that the staff had built for them. Just like all the years before, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ron, and Harry shared a dorm with beds of their own. They all changed into their pyjamas and all flopped onto their beds, all pulled their bed hangings shut tightly and were asleep within minutes. All except Harry Potter. 

He lay awake, glasses on the bedside table, hands resting underneath his mop of black hair, not thinking about much. He simply couldn’t sleep at the moment. Sighing, he turned on his side and snuggled deep into his covers. He stared at his hands for a long time, remembering how he’d seen into Voldemort’s eyes and saw that his hands were sickly white with long, ugly nails. Harry shuddered at the memory. Soon enough, he’d fallen to sleep just like the others and dreamed. 

_ He was in Godric’s Hollow, standing in front of his parents’ grave. He was wearing the outfit he’d worn in the Battle of Hogwarts and noticed that he had a bleeding cut on his cheek. In his stiff, cold hands he held a wreath of white lilies -- identical to the one Hermione conjured before the attack at Bathilda Bagshot’s house. He kneeled and his jeans got wet from the snow that was gently falling to the ground. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and onto the cut, making it sting a little. _

_ He opened his mouth and as he spoke, realized he didn’t have control over what he was saying: “I’m sorry. I wish I was with you under the snow. Asleep. Not worrying about anything anymore. The prophecy just messed up my life.”  _

_ Harry didn’t like where this was going. He wasn’t lucid enough to have control. He wanted out of this dream. Then, in a whole new, unrecognizable voice, he snarled, “I want out of this body. Give it to me!”  _

Harry awoke gasping. He was now spread-eagled on his sheets and sweating. Blinking slowly, he noticed that it was quiet. Nobody had noticed his nightmare. But was it really a nightmare? It felt far too real to be one. His scar wasn’t hurting at all, but had a headache right behind his eyes. 

Harry curled into himself and dragged the covers over again. He fell asleep quicker than he’d expected and the next morning, didn’t remember the strange dream at all. 


	3. Snakes and Parseltongue

**Chapter Three**

Something was off. The morning Harry awoke, he knew he’d had some sort of dream that was significant and it bugged him. Plus, he had a faint headache right behind his eyes and didn’t know what to make of it. He’d asked his roommates if they’d seen anything weird about him, but they said they all were asleep the entire night. Well that didn’t help things. 

Harry went down to the Great Hall in time for breakfast and met Hermione there. Ron and his friends had followed him sleepily, groaning about classes. Harry could feel something stirring in the air around him, and he figured it was just magic minding its own business. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was  _ coming.  _ Something big. 

His first class was Charms with Flitwick and the professor had them review the Patronus Charm. Some students thought it was a little too late for that, but Flitwick thought it’d be good for their minds to think of something happy, in spite of the apocalyptic atmosphere. 

Flitwick instructed that one person each would come up to the front of the class and cast the spell. Luna still had her hare, Hermione her otter, and Ron's little terrier. When it was Harry’s turn, he thought of the time when he was listening to his parents talking to him as a baby; it was the same memory he used to fight off the Boggart in his third year. He cried out the charm, but nothing came out. Not even a wisp. 

That was the first time Harry wasn’t able to cast the Patronus, and he felt humiliated. Blushing, he stepped away from the spotlight and dearly wished it wasn’t so quiet. Flitwick regained his senses and called upon the next student and class resumed like nothing ever happened. 

Next was Potions. Snape had them review simple potions, like the Draught of the Living Death. They were instructed to brew it without partners and Harry, not surprisingly, failed spectacularly. Hermione succeeded and got a tolerable grunt in return, but Harry had his failure deduct five points from Gryffindor. Harry didn’t even bother to be angry. He had a life debt to follow. 

In Transfiguration, the new professor, Mr Bufferton, instructed them to transfigure bits of themselves. He explained that some were well on their way to becoming Aurors, as some were shocked to hear that they’d be doing that to themselves.  Hermione managed to transfigure her legs into a fish tail that sent her into a slight panic, but was able to transfigure herself back again. Ron managed to turn part of his face into a beak of an eagle and back again. 

Harry was the only one to fully transfigure himself and it was into a great python. He had slithered upon the floor, getting used to his new body as others reared back in shock and fear. Bufferton warned that he needed to turn back  _ now  _ or else he’d be stuck, so Harry obliged. But he did have the scales temporarily showing on the backs of his hands as a consequence. Completely unfazed, he’d tickled them and giggled loudly. Everyone just stared at him. 

“Harry…” Ron murmured, long after classes had ended. They were hanging out in the Gryffindor Common Room and playing a round of Exploding Snap again. Harry snake scales had faded, but still remained. 

Harry looked up from his deck. “Yeah?” 

“Aren’t… aren’t you worried about transfiguring into a snake, of all things?” Harry shook his head. 

Ron shrugged weakly. “You-Know-Who was a snake.” 

At that, Harry’s face darkened. He hadn’t realized that at all during that class. How had he been so stupid? Of course he had to change into the very thing he hated. And  _ why  _ had it taken so long to realize that? 

“You’re right, Ron. But I wasn’t thinking about being a  _ snake,  _ for Merlin’s sake!” Harry snapped, clutching his cards furiously. 

“Well… has your scar hurt?” 

“No…” Harry answered, but decided not to mention the time he’d thought it  _ did  _ hurt. And wasn’t that a fun ten minutes of total panic. Then, he added, rather frustratedly, “Voldemort’s dead. I don’t think we should worry about that kind of stuff right now.” Ron quickly nodded, mumbling a quiet apology. After a slightly tense round of Exploding Snap, the duo headed off to bed and Ron was asleep within minutes And Harry dreamed. 

_ He was back in Godric’s Hollow, but not in the graveyard anymore. Instead, he stood at the gate that boarded the house that had been destroyed that night so many years ago. Right at his feet was a sign that had carvings of assurance and Everlasting Ink over the same carvings. He stepped past the kissing gate and headed down the path, the snow crunching softly under his shoes. He opened the door that hung on a single hinge and didn’t bother to explore the wreckage as he headed upstairs towards the nursery.  _

_ Once again, Harry could only watch as this robotic part of him led him to the very place so many unspeakable whispers began. He walked up to the crib and put a hand on the railing. For one solemn moment, Harry took in his surroundings: the blown open wall that wafted in cool winter air; the remains of the door that Voldemort had blasted apart, the door that Lily had slammed closed to protect her baby.  _

_ Suddenly, whispers echoed throughout the room and Harry finally surged with control as he gave a jump at the sounds. Then he realized it was Parseltongue. And he could understand it. Which made everything worse.  _

_ I am the creature you have not seen.  _

_ I am you. I am me. The echo unforeseen.  _

_ Sometimes in front, sometimes behind,  _

_ A constant companion, for we are entwined.* _

“Harry?” 

Harry’s head hurt. 

“Harry. Wake up.” 

Ron? 

“Wake  _ up!”  _

Harry’s eyes snapped open with a start. He saw Ron’s face hovering inches from his own. His heart was beating frantically and he was sweating again. The dream was quickly burned to ashes as he tried to remember, but nothing was repairable once he’d gained his senses. He noticed Ron looked spooked. He must’ve been talking in his sleep again. 

“What? What did I say?” Harry asked. 

“Something about a constant companion.” Ron answered. “Something about… ‘I am you, I am me’ stuff. Harry, what did you dream about?” 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t remember. It was something about… a broken house and a room. I can’t -- I can’t recall it…” 

“Well… you kind of creeped me out. Just… tell me whenever you want if you remember… okay?” Ron asked quietly. Harry nodded, but knew he’d never tell him if he did remember. He’d never tell him he knew he could still understand Parseltongue. 

After all this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Recited from "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child"


	4. The Seventh Horcrux

**Chapter Four**

It was a normal day that day, but Harry was very distracted. He hardly ate his breakfast that morning and kept repeating the rhyme in his head over and over again. Ron didn’t really pay attention to his distractedness, but Hermione noticed easily. And that annoyed Harry sometimes. 

“Harry? You haven’t eaten anything yet. Are you okay?” 

Snapped out his daydreams, Harry responded, “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking…” 

“About what?” Hermione asked. Harry shrugged. He wasn’t sure what was coming, but it nagged him and he didn’t like it very much. He managed a few bites of toast and eggs before breakfast was over, and when it was, he and his friends headed off to their first class. Transfiguration. 

Professor Bufferton resumed the lesson of transfiguring oneself and a larger majority were able to do it; more than yesterday. Of course, Harry thought of anything but a snake, but he still turned into one. He thumped his tail in frustration and turned back into himself, grumbling under his breath. Ron looked worried, but Harry shook his head, nonverbally telling his friend it was all fine. 

In Herbology, Professor Sprout made them review dangerous and poisonous plants and how to handle them. Nobody, not even Neville, got their hands dirty or their skin burned with the lethal venom. Inwardly, it reminded Harry of when the snake attacked Mr Weasley during his fifth year. That time, he realized that his invisible demons were taunting him more than they ever have, and a small, wicked part of Harry told him that it wasn’t just his demons. It was something more… something sinister… 

In Charms, he was the only student not able to cast the Patronus and others who’d cast a wisp yesterday, were able to cast a solid form that day. 

Then it was time for Potions. And Professor Snape ordered them to brew a new potion he’d recently invented. The Soul-Awakening Potion. The professor explained it was relatively harmless because it would only affect your soul and would make it more aware and stronger. It would be harmless because a person had only one soul and that was it. 

Harry was able to brew the potion successfully, and he was surprised because he was sure he’d missed a step. But, no. It was almost robotic: what he was doing. Then, his name was called. He looked up to see Professor Snape watching him. 

“Mr Potter, you will do a demonstration. Drink it.” Snape ordered quietly. Harry took a spoon and dipped it into his cauldron. A small part of him, the wicked part of him, told him  _ no!  _ But, he had to. 

He brought the spoon to his lips, hands shaking. 

_ NO!  _

Tipped it back. Swallowed and waited. 

And then a pain like no other burst from his scar and he cried out, clapping a hand to it. The icy cold terror he’d felt the first time came flooding back in full force and it ran down his spine in chills. 

_ This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen.  _

Harry felt like he was losing a battle. The pain was near and dear to the same he’d felt when Voldemort had possessed him during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. He lifted his head and saw through tear-blurred eyes that everyone was staring at him and Snape was standing at his desk, stoic and unmoving. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes…

And knew no more. 

Harry knew by the smell that he was in the infirmary. His head was hurting again and it was right at his scar. He squeezed his hand and felt the soft linen of a bed he lay in. With the other, he groped his face and found he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He reached for a nightstand, but suddenly they were being handed to him. Opening his eyes, he saw two blurry figures sitting at both sides of the bed he lay upon and murmured a hoarse  _ thank you  _ as he placed them onto his face. His vision cleared and saw Ron and Hermione watching him with worried faces. 

“He’s dead. But my scar hurt.” he whispered. 

Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. “We saw.” She said quietly. Harry’s eyes widened. “You  _ saw?  _ All I remember is fainting. What did I do?” He grew more panicked as he rambled, and sat up, gripping his friend’s arm. 

Ron placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back onto the mattress. “Harry… you said some things.” 

Harry was scared now. “What did I  _ say?  _ Tell me!” 

Hermione gulped. “You said… ‘I am you; I am me. I am Riddle; I am Potter.” Harry’s eyes widened at that and for a moment he wished this was a terrible, terrible nightmare. But he didn’t wake up. He covered his mouth with his hand and closed his eyes. 

“I’m still a Horcrux.” He gasped. 

A tear slipped down his cheek. 

“Voldemort still lives… inside me.” 

Hermione and Ron were at a loss for words. They watched as their friend wept silently, choking back his sobs. Then, removing his hand, he took a deep breath and asked, “How?” 

“We talked to the portrait of Dumbledore in Professor McGonagall’s office and he didn’t have a clue.” Ron explained, “The Horcrux that you two had seen in the afterlife must’ve been a different one. One of the ones we’d destroyed.” 

“Then what about the one inside me?” Harry asked desperately. 

Hermione sighed. “Dumbledore fears that…” She trailed off and shared a look with Ron. 

Harry didn’t like secrets. “That  _ what?”  _

“That your soul merged with Voldemort’s.” Hermione finished in a meek voice. “That you have your soul and his soul as one.” Harry was slightly surprised. But at the same time, he wasn’t. Because after all this time, he’d felt something stirring within but never really thought about it. Until now. But he still felt contaminated. Still felt disgusting. He rubbed a hand over his heart. 

“Ron? Remember when I had that nightmare?”

“Yeah. You spoke in your sleep.” 

Harry paused. “I heard the same thing in my head… but in Parseltongue.” 

Ron gawked. “In  _ Parseltongue?  _ And you didn’t tell me!” 

“Well, I’m sorry!” Harry snapped, “I just didn’t want to tell you because it would cause absolute chaos and panic! And I thought it was just once!” Ron sighed and dragged a hand over his freckled face. He mumbled something about not wanting to fight. So Harry quieted. 

He turned to Hermione. “What else?” 

Hermoine sighed again. “Dumbledore thinks that if you took that potion and woke up the soul inside you… it might want to take control.” 

“But you said it was both me  _ and  _ him!” 

“Harry,” Hermoine interrupted, “it still has a mind of its own because it doesn’t belong to you, so it wants  _ out. _ ” 

Harry sighed. He didn’t want the soul piece to take control. He wanted to have his own soul and his own body. He didn’t want the soul to wreak havoc. So the Horcrux he’d seen wasn’t from his body. It was probably the most recently destroyed one. The Hufflepuff cup. 

Harry knew one thing now: he was doomed. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's short, I know, but it's mostly a start/introduction chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!


End file.
